


the softness of your hands

by tooruluvr



Series: IwaOi Fluff Week 2020 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Iwaoi, Fluff, IwaOi Fluff Week 2020, M/M, ah yes.....the tenderness that comes with taping your lover's hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooruluvr/pseuds/tooruluvr
Summary: It occurs to Iwaizumi then, as he wraps the tape around Oikawa’s fingers as carefully as possible, that his hands are a beautiful thing.[or: Iwaizumi develops a new-found appreciation for Oikawa’s pretty hands.]
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: IwaOi Fluff Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837759
Comments: 24
Kudos: 292
Collections: Iwaoi fluff week 2020





	the softness of your hands

**Author's Note:**

> here's my third piece for iwaoi fluff week for the prompt "hands" because i simply could not resist. enjoy!!

The burn in his thighs, the icy gasps of breath, the roar of his teammates in his ears — it’s almost overwhelming, but Iwaizumi refuses to lose focus. His eyes remain fixed on the ball before him, sailing in a beautiful arc over the net, and the opponents awaiting their move with bated breaths.

It’s been a while since they’ve had a match against Datekou, and even though Iwaizumi isn’t all too worried about the outcome, he doesn’t hesitate to spike with all his might when the ball is sent to him. The sting in his palm feels  _ just right _ , filling him with barely-suppressed joy — but it’s short-lived. 

Much to his displeasure, Datekou’s libero manages to save it at the last second, and as their captain leaps up, Iwaizumi stands prepared to receive a powerful spike. 

He finds that he doesn’t need to, though; Matsukawa and Oikawa are in the front row, arms outstretched, and he’s almost certain getting the ball past them will be tricky. He spots an opening in Oikawa’s block, and it alarms him only for a hazy second — he’s seen this trick before.

From the corner of his vision, Iwaizumi sees Oikawa suddenly shift his hand right in the opening he’d left. The ball is blocked completely, rebounding to the other side of the court, and by the time Datekou’s players dive in to save it, it’s already too late. 

The referee whistles, and the match is over. 

It’s really only a practice match, Iwaizumi knows, but there’s still that surge of triumph he feels at having defeated  _ the  _ Iron Wall of Miyagi. Perhaps them losing their last point to a block is an irony of some sort.

But the feeling dwindles and vanishes as soon as his eyes land on Oikawa’s face, and where there should have been an easy smile is a twisted grimace instead, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed. His right hand is clutched in his left. Iwaizumi is by his side in an instant.

As soon as the rest of the team has caught up, they crowd around them, looking on in concern. Iwaizumi takes Oikawa’s shaky hand in his own. 

“Is it broken?” He asks, running his fingers gently over the knuckles. Oikawa winces, but doesn’t cry out.

“I don’t think so,” Oikawa replies, voice strained.

“The ball must have hit your fingers real hard,” Iwaizumi concludes in a murmur, recalling how Oikawa had baited the opposing spiker. “Come on, we should tape it.”

Oikawa frowns. Iwaizumi knows he doesn’t like the sound of that, doesn’t like that he’s injured his hand to begin with — he’s always taken great care not to, what with his dedication to his setting — but it’s not like he could have helped it.

“Is Oikawa-san okay?” Kindaichi asks, peering over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

“Don’t think he’ll die,” Matsukawa quips, meeting Oikawa’s affronted look with a grin.

“Unfortunately,” Iwaizumi says.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa gasps, pulling his hand back. “I’ll tape it  _ myself  _ if you’re going to be like that!”

“Well, realistically speaking, you can’t do that with one hand.”

Oikawa is ready with a reply at the tip of his tongue, but looks up at the sound of their coaches approaching.

“Ah, it’s fine,” he says quickly, “it’s definitely not broken. It doesn’t even hurt all that much.”

Mizoguchi raises an eyebrow, but even as he looks at the state of Oikawa’s hand, he doesn’t seem too worried.

“Iwaizumi, you know how to tape, right?”

Iwaizumi nods, once again reaching for Oikawa’s hand. “Yeah, I got it. Come on, Shittykawa. It’ll hurt more than it has to if you keep holding it like that.”

“Iwa-chan, don’t you know it’s rude to insult someone when they’re hurt?”

Iwaizumi casts him an exasperated look. Leave it to Oikawa to be able to run his mouth no matter what state he’s in. Still, he takes care to hold his injured hand as gently as possible, guiding him to the locker room as the rest of the team gathers for their regular post-match meeting. It takes just a little bit of rummaging around to find where they’d last put their athletic tape, and Iwaizumi instructs Oikawa to keep his hand up evenly while he pulls out the roll. 

“Huh, this feels a little weird,” Oikawa mumbles absently. “I’ve never missed a meeting before.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Iwaizumi answers easily, tearing a strip of tape. “I’m sure there’s nothing the coaches will say that you don’t already know. Hey, I said keep your hand still.”

It occurs to Iwaizumi then, as he wraps the tape around Oikawa’s fingers as carefully as possible, that his hands are a beautiful thing. His fingers are slender, nimble — quick and sure in their movement, as would be expected of a setter. Iwaizumi has been around Oikawa long enough to know that he has perfect control of them. If it weren’t for his injury, he would be able to keep them impressively still. It’s how his handwriting is always even, how his sets are consistent and perfectly-controlled. 

Lost in his thoughts, Iwaizumi accidentally tugs at the tape too hard and Oikawa startles.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he mumbles, eyes narrowing as he forces himself to concentrate. Oikawa puffs out a small laugh, reaching with his uninjured hand to smooth the crease between Iwaizumi’s brows.

“Iwa-chan makes the cutest faces when he’s taking care of me,” he teases. Iwaizumi flushes under his touch.

“Shut up or I’ll pull the tape again, on purpose this time.”

“Mhm,” Oikawa hums, not the least bit bothered. “You wouldn’t.”

And he’s right. Iwaizumi wouldn’t.

But he’ll stubbornly pretend otherwise.

He finishes wrapping up Oikawa’s middle and forefinger, turning over his hand to secure the tape. He reaches for another strip for his pinky.

“You took quite a hit, huh,” he murmurs under his breath, examining the bruise on his finger. He runs his thumb over Oikawa’s palm, and where one would normally expect it to be rough and calloused, the skin feels smooth under his touch. Soothing to hold. Pretty. It seems only his fingers were harmed. 

“Futakuchi-chan can be quite ruthless with his spikes,” Oikawa says, shaking his head with a smile. “I think I might have provoked him a little too much before the match.”

“You  _ think _ ?” Iwaizumi scoffs, wrapping the tape around Oikawa’s pinky. He takes extra care not to make any sudden movements; he’s never been great at keeping his own hands steady, not for such delicate work — but for Oikawa, he tries. He always tries.

Oikawa’s quiet for a while after that. Iwaizumi wonders if he’s hurting and trying not to let it show in his voice, but when he looks up, Oikawa’s gazing at him with a look that makes Iwaizumi’s heart flutter in his chest. It’s a look reserved for when they’re alone, when Oikawa can slip off the hundred masks he reserves for other people to simply be himself, to simply be  _ Tooru,  _ and perhaps this makes Iwaizumi a little selfish, but something akin to pride and fondness grows in his chest when he remembers that this is reserved for him, and him alone.

“...What?” Iwaizumi asks, frowning at the traitorous waver in his voice.

“Nothing,” Oikawa says airily, “but it’s cute when you worry about me.”

Iwaizumi scowls and looks down in an attempt to hide the growing warmth in his cheeks, even though he knows it won’t escape Oikawa’s notice. These things never really do.

Once he’s secured the tape, Iwaizumi examines his hand to see if he’s missed anything, but everything else seems just fine. He finds himself lost in the wonder that is Oikawa’s hands, the strength that he knows lies in their grip, the comfort that he finds in their warmth...how perfectly his own hands fit in them.

Iwaizumi brings Oikawa’s hand to his mouth, lips brushing over his knuckles in the ghost of a kiss. He plants a gentle one on his taped fingers, and another to the smooth skin of his palm. His eyes dart up to meet Oikawa’s, and it’s an odd sort of satisfaction to know that he is capable of leaving him scrambling for his voice, too.

“I know you’re a lot more careful nowadays,” Iwaizumi whispers against the back of Oikawa’s hand, “but still, take care, okay?”  _ They’re a special thing, these hands of yours,  _ he doesn’t say, but it’s understood between them anyway,  _ so let me hold them for as long as I can. _

Oikawa swallows, nodding as though in a trance. The spell lasts one, two seconds, and suddenly Oikawa’s grinning, bright and gorgeous.

“Iwa-chan, my lips are right here, you know?” He teases, pointing to his mouth, and Iwaizumi fully blames the cramped locker room for the heat creeping up his neck. He leans in slowly, then all at once, pressing their mouths together softly before parting his lips for a deeper kiss. He brings their hands to his chest and over his heart with a tenderness reserved for none other than this miracle of a person, this ever-so-gentle love of his. 

**Author's Note:**

> or: oikawa has pretty setter hands and iwa kind of never wants to let go of them, ever.
> 
> this was...oddly therapeutic to write. i’ve always headcanon’d that iwa loves every part of oikawa, but especially his hands. i did some research on setter hands for this fic and came across a quote that said the ideal setter hands are “soft yet strong” and i just...that got to me...that gentle sort of strength, y’know…
> 
> okay so. both iwa and i are in love with oikawa’s hands it seems.


End file.
